Black Magic
by Spyke Taylor
Summary: Legolas gets taken captive by a dark elf. She’s gotten hold of something valuable to him, and won’t give it back until he assists her in a quest that could put his friends in jeopardy. What-if involving a certain evil wizard. Not a Mary-Sue!


Summary: Legolas gets taken captive by a dark elf. She's gotten hold of something valuable to him, and won't give it back until he assists her in a quest that could put his friends in jeopardy. What-if involving a certain evil wizard. Not a Mary-Sue!  
  
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine except for the ones that are. I don't own Legolas. I'm so broke. Don't sue.  
  
This is my first published fic. Be nice, and R&R! Constructive criticism is appreciated!  
  
CHAPTER ONE: LOST AND FOUND  
  
  
  
"I'll 'ave another pint, if you please!" slurred Pippin, twirling on his stool. He giggled, and poked at Legolas violently. "This place makes the best ale I've tasted in ages!"  
  
Legolas and Pippin were sharing a late-night drink in a pub just outside of Gondor, resting after celebrating their friend's wedding. They were enjoying life together, reveling in their last weeks with each other before they embarked on their own separate lives and adventures. The small wooden building rested inconspicuously in a small glade surrounded by dense foliage. The place was not nearly as dirty or lecherous as most others, it was bright and saturated with warm colors, browns and oranges and bright lights from the raging fires. Designs were carved in the oak rafters and beams of famous tales and adventures, and Legolas noted that a few newer carvings that had not had the chance to darken yet had been etched in the far end. His sharp elf vision could make out the pictures if he craned his neck a bit. Closer inspection revealed that they were carvings of nine figures around a ring. One of them was an elf.  
  
Not dark and dank, even the people in the lodge seemed cleaner and more hospitable than usual. Friendly, drunken laughter coursed throughout the room, and everyone wore a smile. The latest events brought every hobbit, dwarf, elf, and man to a good mood. And then of course, there was the ale. The drink was fine and went down their throats like smooth, spicy nectar.  
  
  
  
The whole thing would have been much more enjoyable had the other hobbits been there with them, unfortunately they had passed out quite a while ago as a result of too much food and not enough sleep. So the two companions sat together at the bar, savoring the most expensive drinks on the menu, taking advantage of the fact that most people here regarded them nearly as highly as gods. This meant they received many things at a very large discount...it ranged from beautiful and enchanted Elven swords and armor, to sturdy and rugged Dwarvish gauntlets and gems, to free meals and swift horses from men. But then there were the other gifts... like those many pairs of lady's undergarments and love notes that had arrived for Legolas in the past weeks. Or the much offers for teaching the fellowship...carnal knowledge. It was all a great shock to suddenly be considered famous, and sometimes it felt brilliant. A wonder for their pride. But overexposure to this behavior was like sitting in the sun too long...it can make your skin blister and red and raw. They needed to hide in the shade a bit to recover. Needed to hide in a corner of a bar, where there were no swooning maidens or cheering masses or idolizing young men.  
  
"I said, this place makes the best ale I've had!" the hobbit repeated himself and started poking yet harder at Legolas' side.  
  
The much taller elf snapped out of his reverie and seemed to agree with his friend as he looked down at Pip's bright red face. "Indeed," he nodded, "Although Elvish drink is finer than this, the ale is quite satisfactory. For something man-made."  
  
"A dark mead here," a deep voice growled from behind the two friends. "And Elvish liquor, if you ask me, is weak as green grape-wine and twice as bitter."  
  
Legolas struggled to hide a smile." But I didn't ask you, so you need not say anything. Besides, Dwarvish drink is thick as mud and twice as bland." The elf turned around to face the voice. Not being able to hold it in, he let loose a wide grin. "Gimli, it is good to see you. Take a seat!"  
  
Gimli did, boosting himself up with not too much difficulty. "Hello, my friends! How are you? Drunk? Wonderful! As I will be, as soon as I can have it." The dwarf settled in his seat and sighed comfortably. " Ah...such pleasant times are upon us at last. Everywhere you turn, a celebration is taking place! Such a complete unity of all the races is rare, but such things happen in the shadow of terrible times. Who had thought a dwarf and an elf could be comrades? Who would have dreamed that a simple hobbit could be regarded so highly? And oh, it is fine that Arwen and that scoundrel Strider are wed now, is it not?" he chuckled, accepting his mead. "A love so strong that she would give up her immortal life. Unheard of!...But admirable. Why, just this day I heard two young maids jabbering on about the commotion the two were making in their room a few evenings ago.."  
  
  
  
"Gimli!" Legolas interrupted, looking quite flabbergasted, and very red for an elf. "I have no wish to know these things, and I cannot believe that you have been eavesdropping! Like a gossiping schoolgirl...how shameful! You have no business whatsoever in the king and queen's...ah...their...their personal lives!"  
  
"Oh, don't be silly," Pippin chirruped. "Yer much too serious. For an old bugger like yourself, one would figure ye'd be a bit more mature about things of that sort. Going off being all formal and proper. It's only Master Aragorn, after all. There's nothing bad about that. Now, take that Mr. Underwood for instance, I wouldn't want to hear about that great blubbery git, as ye shouldn't like to have pictures of that sort in your head, would yeh?"  
  
Both elf and dwarf were silent, grimaces on their faces. Legolas looked at his drink disgustedly.  
  
"Now don't be silly, that ale's not for wastin! Quick, both of yeh raise your glasses, I propose a toast to Arwen and Aragorn for their health, their wealth, and for their vigorous personal lives!"  
  
Laughing, Gimli raised his mug. "And a toast to adventure, and new places."  
  
Even Legolas brought up his cup. "And to old friends and new!" The glasses clinked cheerily.  
  
As Pippin threw back his head to swig some of his ale, he suddenly noticed a tall, lithe figure clad in black to their right. His cowl was dark and large, so only a black shadow was cast on his face. Dangerous gauntlets covered his long fingers and his menacing, heavy metal boots looked as if they were forged specially to replicate those of the Nazgul. He was hunched over his drink suspiciously, and a cloud of tobacco-smoke around him gave him a yet eerier look. His shadowed head turned to them for a second and gave them as evil a gaze as a head without features can give.  
  
A sudden dark gloom filled the imaginative Took's mind. Pippin nudged Legolas desperately, whispering, "A ring-wraith! There's a bleeding ring wraith in the bleeding pub!"  
  
"Don't be silly. You know they were all eliminated with the destruction of the ring. I suppose you're seeing things, tipsy as you are," Legolas said nonchalantly, but curiously cast the figure a sideways glance.  
  
  
  
Indeed, he could see why the hobbit was so afraid. That thing might not have been a ring-wraith, but it did a very good job of imitating one. An odd feeling arose in his mind, the same one he felt whenever there were orcs or other dark beings around. He could almost hear voices in his head, warning, whispering hoarsely to him of something very wrong with the stranger near them. Something was very ominous about him. The elf's keen senses were picking up the scent of danger in the air. While convinced the wanderer was not a ghost, Legolas wondered if he should keep an eye on the stranger. The fact that he appeared to be staring straight at Legolas did not help. Shaking his head, he cleared the thought from his mind. "You've drunk too much as well," he silently chastised himself, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from the curious individual.  
  
Suddenly, startling the three friends, the doors slammed open and a small horde of orcs pushed their way into the building. Squealing and howling, they launched themselves at whatever they could, their already mauled faces twisting further in rage. The more fearful and inebriated men cowered under their tables, but most took out their weapons and fought the small pests with vigor. Now that their master was defeated, the orcs seemed nothing more than mere nuisances like roaches or rats. They would not have much of a chance of existing in Middle Earth for long. It was becoming clear that they would soon be exterminated. Without a leader to guide them on, the creatures were quite dull and had no chance of survival with so many against them.  
  
  
  
Legolas raised his bow without hesitation and shot two, and Gimli was soon off with his axe as well. They had barely time to think why such an attack had occurred after all the chaos was supposed to be over. Pippin, however, was squealing like a stuck pig. Due to all his twirling, his scarf had gotten twisted to his barstool and now he couldn't get off it. Legolas sighed, and with a tad of bemusement he stooped and cut the material of the scarf with his knife before stabbing a yrch with it. Pippin scampered off quickly. As Legolas twisted around to get a better shot, he noticed the arcane character was now standing up, and now he saw the thing could not possibly have been a black rider. Though his dark robes were baggy and large around his body, they could not hide the fact that he was very slender, and his shoulders were round and small. He would have assumed the cloaked figure was a young man, no more than a child, if not for the height. He was nearly as tall as Legolas. Probably some particularly tall adolescent then, for he was lanky enough. Obvious because he was certainly not showing the bravery of a man. His hand was outstretched towards the orcs, as if trying to ward them off. His other hand was supporting him, as he was leaning on the table. He was trembling and quivering like an old man, exerting a tremendous amount of effort. Feeling pity for the young, terrified soul, Legolas quickly grabbed him by the waist and whisked him out the door. In the confusion, neither Gimli nor Pippin noticed their disappearance. He was slightly surprised, however, that no orcs shot an arrow or made an attempt for him.... instead it was almost like they were clearing the way for him. Odd...but probably just a coincidence.  
  
His feet carried him quickly, and the person in his arms fought like a madman (from fear, he thought, the huge hood he wore must have also quite blocked his view) and he set the figure down lightly once a bit into the trees and sufficiently hidden from view. Standing over the flustered and wrinkled form, he said, "It's all right now. We're away. They cannot harm us now."  
  
Before he knew what was happening, he was on the floor, on his back. And he had a very, very sharp arrow pointed straight between his eyes. An elven arrow, he noticed with surprise, set in a ebony and methril elven bow. Slowly, his blue eyes ran up the length of the weapon to see his captor...and realized with a start that the he was not a he. He was a she. And she... was an elf. Her hood had fallen to her shoulders, revealing her face. Mouth hanging open, he observed the figure of beauty above him. She was anything but the typical elf. Like nothing he'd ever seen. Her skin was as pale as ivory, and her cold, deep emerald was fixed on him. Her crimson lips were pressed tightly together, and the blackest mane of hair he had ever seen flew out behind her in the breeze, snapping and waving like a silken flag. Her eyebrows were soft and dark, and at the moment knitted together furiously. Her nose was sharp and straight but small, and the beautiful being's cheekbones were perfect. She said nothing, and her long, pointed ears announced her lineage.  
  
A long moment of silence passed between them. The shrieks and clangs of metal biting metal behind them in the pub quieted to a soft murmur, denoting that the orcs had been all but defeated. More quiet. Finally breaking the silence, the she-elf hissed quietly, "Thaur edhel.... Thaur draug! Ah gor, amarth..." her breathing quickened, and so did her angry curses, which sounded hard and sharp like icicles piercing his mind.  
  
Legolas quickly tried to calm her down, as the arrow was still pointed at him and he realized that if she got any angrier, she'd probably send it thunking straight into his skull. "Daro, daro...." 'stop, stop' he said, trying to soothe her. "Elen sila lumenn omentielvo." 'A star shines upon our meeting.' A friendly greeting. Not the appropriate one for a time like this but... "Neem Legolas."  
  
  
  
All right, bad move. Now he could practically see fire in her eyes. She went hysterical, speaking so fast in Elvish he couldn't even follow her. He felt for sure he was going to die when she stopped as suddenly as she'd started and cocked her head to one side, looking as keen as cat trying to listen for something. He listened with his sharp ears as well, and could hear Pippin and Gimli calling for him faintly. They seemed to be getting closer, and they were definitely getting louder. He looked at her again, wondering if he could quickly grab the arrow and move it away, or perhaps roll off to the side, but she still seemed very switched on and very aware of what she was doing. He started talking quietly, trying to persuade her to just move the arrow quietly, so maybe he could talk to her properly, just for a moment, or to let him stretch his muscles for a bit perhaps? Please?..  
  
She heard the elf babbling softly in the back of her mind, but she paid him no heed. Legolas... she couldn't believe it. This was Legolas. Prince of Mirkwood. She thought hard and quickly, but while others may have looked far off in thought, she still looked at her captive sharply, making it appear like she was giving him all her attention...which she wasn't at all. A trick her father had taught her. Her father.... now dead. Because of him. Because of the disgusting blonde elf underneath her feet. And how many of her friends had died because of him? She was lucky she had summoned her small band of orcs--a palling task which he'd apparently taken for fear. Not completely bad, for as a result, instead of raiding some rich travellers she'd bagged a much bigger gem. She should kill him right now...she'd love to see the brains and blood flying out of his skull, see how pretty he was when his face was torn in half... but no. She smiled, ever so slightly. No. There would be other uses for this elf. She could do many things with him. She could manipulate him…and his friends, who shared the responsibility. She could use him well.  
  
Legolas saw the elf's frozen face slowly melt into a small smile. He sighed in relief, and smiled back at her, only to be startled with a swift kick to the groin. He tried to stifle it, but could not. Legolas let his cry out loudly in shock and pain, and rolled onto his side, clutching his now very tender area. A small distance off, a hobbit and a dwarf heard his yelp and began to run quickly in his direction. A sharp blow on his head nearly blunted the ache between his legs and everything went black.  
  
  
  
"Unhhhhh." Hangover plus lump on head plus no sleep... equals pain. Great, pulsing measures of pain. Where was he? What was going on? Why did he feel completely immobile? And why couldn't he see properly? Everything looked like a blur. He blinked a couple of times, and his hand instinctively tried to travel to his chest. But his hand wouldn't move. It was tied behind his back. His legs were bound too, and a gag kept him from saying anything comprehendible. Right, so that answered one question. He felt immobile because he was. He looked down. The necklace his hand had tried to grope for was gone. Eyelids droopy from lack of sleep and pain snapped up in an instant. Panic. Where was it. Where is it. Who's taken it. No. No. He looked up quickly, hyperventilating slightly only to see the shining pendant, hanging deliciously inches from his face.  
  
"Tis a pretty little bauble," she said, almost mockingly. Her slender, pale hand suspended the necklace, and two piercingly green eyes met two gray ones. The chain of the necklace was beaten of the finest white gold mixed with methril, and looked no more than a silvery silk ribbon. It was strong, though, and so was the gold leaf-shaped pendant. It was tiny, no bigger than his thumbnail. Impeccably made by the finest craftsman in Mirkwood, so detailed and so realistic. Through it was a minuscule methril arrow, pointing to the left. To the wearer's heart. The light glinted off it like as if it were a star.  
  
Legolas growled under his gag, straining against his bindings violently. "It's a Mirkwood tradition, is it not?" her smile was brilliant and yet terrible. Terrible in the way the sickly-sweet syrupy tone of her voice almost made it look like a sneer. Terrible in the sense she was now stretching out languidly... greasily against a tree opposite to him.  
  
"When a couple gets engaged, the male proposes with an enchanted necklace, doesn't he?" Legolas glared at her, his hands rubbing on the rough ropes binding his wrists. She leaned forward again brought the necklace to centimeters from his face, delighting in his groans of agony and his futile struggles.  
  
Her voice transformed into a soft whisper. "But you left, didn't you. On a mission. To go to Rivendell on a dangerous journey. A long journey." His writhing intensified.  
  
"And as was tradition, she gave the necklace back to you. For you to recall what, exactly, you were fighting for. To inspire you to live on during your quest. She gave it to you to ensure you would remember her." Her voice softened yet more, until she was barely breathing the words in his ear.  
  
"You do remember her...don't you?" Legolas felt a trickle of blood run down his palm. The ropes had cut into his skin. The pain and wetness brought him to his senses, and he stopped fighting, and collapsed weak and despondent into a little heap. "Don't you?" Of course he remembered her. Of course. Forever.  
  
  
  
"You were so happy to be back. You'd stayed alive and pushed on for her. You thought you were going to see her again. But she was gone. Not waiting for you...she'd disappeared. On a quest of her own? No one knew. It was as if she'd vanished into thin air."  
  
Strange. Her voice almost sounded genuinely sad. But Legolas tried to think decently. Of course she wouldn't be, she was just rousing his anger. He was finding it harder to concentrate, though, with her whispers stirring his troubled memories.  
  
"But you still have a piece of her. To remember her. Just like she wished. When you hold it..." she exhaled, "you can almost see her face.." she touched the cold metal to his cheek, and his vision became blurry again.  
  
His eyes closed and it was as if he was walking in a dream with her deep brown hair floating just out of his reach, her head surrounded by a glowing halo. Her hand, perfect, soft and white as a magnolia flower, reached out to him. Her dress, of the lightest and silkiest white Elven material swished at his feet, and he could feel the back of her hand running so softly down his cheek, so slowly. Her hand was so soft...like flower petals. Ethereal voices were singing far off in the distance. Was this heaven? He leaned forward, puckering to capture her magically soft lips...  
  
Clap! His delirium was interrupted by a sharp backhand to his cheek. Back to reality--back to that elf-witch. Her musical voice and sarcastic smile were gone, and now she was brusque, hard and cold. "You weak thing. So easily succumbing to something so small. Worse even, than a bare hobbit and his ring. I don't have to do anything to get you as upset as a captured rabbit. Just…" She rolled the pendant between her fingers. "Do you want it?"  
  
Legolas looked up, tired. There was no point in struggling against the Elven knots. She wanted him to respond to her taunts. She would not get the satisfaction.  
  
She laughed, and gestured to the white strip she used to gag him. "Shall I remove this?" He remained silent and still as a statue. "Those who are truly wise know when to relent and bite back their stubbornness." she said. "If you do nothing it will be as that and you shall remain as you are, but I shall not care either way." Hesitation. Then slowly, cautiously, her prisoner nodded.  
  
She ripped off the gag. She expected him to curse at her, yell, anything. But he was silent, knowing that it wouldn't do him any good. Maybe he wasn't so stupid after all.  
  
  
  
"I would return this to you," she said. "But I am playing a game, you see. It's a very important game. The prize is my being able to rest my conscience. I need you. You will make a vicious pawn. And you, you need me as well."  
  
"How do I need you?" Legolas exploded. "I need no-one."  
  
"Brave little elf!" her laugh sounded like a crystal glass being tapped by a spoon. "You are invulnerable? You need no-one? You forget! I am the one with your little toy. You are in no position to be talking such nonsense."  
  
He gave her a look of pure hatred. Why was she torturing him so? What had he ever done? "What is this?" he hissed.  
  
Her blinding white teeth made their appearance yet again. "I am a wanderer. My reasons are not yours to know, but I must travel to Isengard. Though the war is over, the journey is still evil. I know of a short and secret route through the woods, but dark things lurk there, so mysterious and old that they have no names. And the area itself is treacherous. Sulfur still reeks, embers still glow. They have guards in the area now. Patrol squads of fit elves, dwarves, and men. The collaboration is ridiculous, but effective. As skilled as I am, I cannot get past so many watchers. A hundred could not. They will never let me in the tower. They kill anything that moves. But I must get inside... I need to reclaim something that was taken from me. I must claim my revenge. I--I need your help. Such a trip is dangerous alone, and someone capable is just who I need. The guards will let you in the tower. They will not only let you walk through Isengard, they would probably escort you. You're one of the nine. You're a celebrity. I need your assistance. I am not afraid to admit this. It seems silly, but everything depends on you. My ropes secure you for the sole reason that you would at least listen to my cause. I'm desperate. "  
  
Legolas looked at her strangely. He supposed she had been subjected to Saruman's madness, and she needed to avenge her lost loved ones. Nevertheless, though he sympathized with her, he knew this was outrageous. "You're mad."  
  
"Then you are as well!" she snapped. "As this necklace is precious to you, that which I must take back is precious to me. If I am mad, then you are just as mad as I, or twice so. For though I am willing to go through perilous grounds, walk over the graves of so many, and enter Sauron's second stronghold to find my destiny, you are willing to follow me. So you can find but a shadow of your love."  
  
"I never said I was willing to," argued Legolas.  
  
"But you never said you weren't. If you'd decided not to you'd have said so by now."  
  
"I am saying so! I will have no part in this."  
  
"As you wish." she shrugged. "But in that case, I shall keep your trinket."  
  
She undid his bindings and soon he was free, armed and capable but for the tingling in his near-numb limbs. After putting on his pack and his quiver, he turned to her and frowned. "What is keeping me from taking the necklace from you now, forcefully? What is keeping me from hurting you for putting me through such suffering?"  
  
"Your heart prevents you. You cannot hurt a maiden like me. You know it." And indeed he did.  
  
"And as for the necklace? Take it then," she said. "Try." She held out her hand. It shone there, beckoning and calling to him. He reached out carefully and took it. The once chilly metal burned now, like the raging fires of Mount Doom, flame and needles and ice all at once. Burning holes into his fingertips, he was sure he'd see smoke rising from his hand. He'd never before felt such a pain! He cried out and dropped the necklace, and as soon as his skin left the metal, the stinging subsided.  
  
"So it will feel, always. Whether I am dead or alive." The dark-haired elf walked over bent down and picked up his treasure. "I alone know the reverse incantation."  
  
"What sort of black magic is that?" he exclaimed.  
  
"If you think I would tell you, you are a fool," she said, pocketing the necklace. "Now go if you must. If you can."  
  
Persuaded by her goading, he obstinately turned and walked off. Not more than fifty paces away, something began to tug on his heartstrings. It pulled harder until he felt he could not take another step. The odd elf had been right. He could not leave it. He had to admit it--he was addicted to the necklace. It was like taking a drug, only better. When he held it, he felt as if he was on a high, intoxicated, in ecstasy, floating on a cloud of happiness. Like feasting on the ambrosia of the gods, or making love. Even better. He was with her. But like all drugs, it had side effects. When he let go, it was as if he'd fallen from the cloud--fallen miles, leaving his body shattered, broken, limp. He had to have it. He had not choice. He'd die if he couldn't touch it, dead of a broken heart. Leaving it would be betraying his love. And he'd kill himself before he'd ever do that.  
  
She sat there next to her tree, smiling at him knowingly as he reappeared. She had known that he would come back. He hated her 'I-told-you- so' look and her smug smile. She didn't say anything. There was nothing to be said, everything was understood She just picked up her load and looked at him. As they set off, he turned to her. "One thing I need to know if I'm going to help you."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"What is your name?"  
  
She gave him a peculiar look, as if he'd asked some nonsensical question. A long pause, and then she said softly, "You may call me Andaelle."  
  
They continued in silence.  
  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER 1.  
  
Footnotes: Whew! Done!! Her name is pronounced Ann-Day-Elle. Just for your information. And let's just pretend the Valar eat ambrosia, okay? Please review! Ahem, Ahem! Attention! Qualified beta-reader wanted!!!! 


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